


But She Had

by Awesome_Sauce432



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Compliant up until T.R.A.C.K.S., Graphic depictions warning just in case, Season 1, Still be wary, T.R.A.C.K.S. AU, Violence, What if? scenario, better safe than sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awesome_Sauce432/pseuds/Awesome_Sauce432
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It happened in seconds. Too fast for Fitz to get out of his chair, much less get away. Too fast for Skye to take more than one step back. Too fast to try to stop the grenade from being thrown at them, from exploding.</p>
<p>But somehow, it wasn't too fast for everyone."</p>
<p>T.R.A.C.K.S. AU where instead of a dendrotoxin grenade getting thrown at Fitz and Skye, it's an actual grenade. So when Jemma intervenes...<br/>Rated Teen and up for character death and violence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But She Had

It happened in seconds. Too fast for Fitz to get out of his chair, much less get away. Too fast for Skye to take more than one step back. Too fast to try to stop the grenade from being thrown at them, from exploding.

But somehow, it wasn't too fast for everyone.

Because instead of the grenade being launched at them, it ended up dropping to the feet of the man holding it, exploding halfway down. Launching both him and the person who had tackled him, causing him to drop it, backwards.

The explosion rocked the train cabin, debris flying everywhere. Boxes fell over, and part of the walls of the train was dented from the sheer force of objects slamming against it. Skye nearly fell over backwards, but Fitz felt rooted to the spot. The person who had saved them, who had jumped onto the man holding the grenade without even a second thought... It was Jemma.

He opened his mouth to shout, but no words came out. Instead, he rushed forward, ignoring whatever Skye was saying. Jemma. He had to help Jemma. He ignored the uncertain and confused shouts from further down the train. Ignored the rancid smell of smoke and ignored the splatters of blood that grew frequent as he got close. He had to find Jemma.

He found her, eyes closed and half of her body covered by the mangled corpse of the man who had held the grenade. He had ended up being slightly closer to the grenade, absorbing some of the force. But he couldn't absorb all of it.

"Jemma!" He said, feeling for a pulse as best he could. Thankfully, there was a very faint, weak throbbing underneath his fingertips. She was alive. But the pulse was so weak... She needed medical attention as soon as possible.

He looked up frantically, before remembering they were on the train. On a mission. There was no medical team standing close by. Usually, _Jemma_ was the medical team on the Bus.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw Skye retching into a bin.

Turning back to Jemma, he tried to apply the medical knowledge he did know. Assess the injuries. That was the first step.

Almost immediately, he knew in his head it was going to be hopeless. Jemma's legs, which had absorbed the most damage, were mangled to the point of unrecognition, blood seeping out into an ever-growing pool. Shards of shrapnel lodged in her stomach and chest, while others had merely cut gashes into her skin. She was too injured for him to deal with, even if they had medical equipment of any kind.

But he had to try. She was still _alive_ , he had to try. His heart stubbornly refused to give up on her. Jemma was his best friend, his partner. She was the reason he had ever decided to join this team, and now she was bleeding out in front of him after saving his life. Again. This wasn't supposed to happen. It couldn't happen. She had to live.

He ripped off parts of his shirt and pants into long strips, tying them off on her upper thighs, the lowest part of her leg he could actually recognised. They were soaked through in seconds, staining his hands and clothes red. No no no. This couldn't happen. She had to live. Jemma couldn't die.

"Oh my god-" Skye suddenly appeared beside him, her face contorted with expressions he couldn't describe.

"You have to help her, come on-" He tried to speak, onto tell Skye to help him. Tell her what to do, _anything_. But his words came out choked, and he knew Skye's medical knowledge was even more limited than his. But anything was better than nothing. He couldn't sit by while Jemma _died_ in front of him. His vision was beginning to blur with tears, and when he tried to wipe them away he only succeeded to staining his face red as well as his hands.

Trying to stem the bleeding was useless. His hands were slick with blood, some of it the nameless man's who was already dead, and some of it Jemma's. Jemma's blood. On his hands.

"N-no no no..." He said, his voice trailing off and his breaths coming in short and quick. He was on the verge of a complete panic attack. But he couldn't. Not while Jemma still had a chance. She just had to live until a proper medical team arrived. Then she would be okay. She had to be. She couldn't die saving him again. Sacrificing her life for him. She couldn't.

"F-Fitz..." Her voice was quiet, so quiet he could barely hear it over his own breathing. But he heard it, eyes flicking up to Jemma's face. Compared to the rest of her body, her head had been left relatively untouched. There was a long gash on one side of her face, but a gash was nothing compared to her other wounds. Her eyelids fluttered, eyes unfocused. But she had spoken.

"I'm here Jemma. You're going to be okay, alright?" He said, his voice more high-pitched than usual. Jemma would have probably made fun of him in a normal situation...

Skye had jumped back, disappearing back to her computer, sending out a distress call. Hopefully, S.H.I.E.L.D. would see it, and send a team. Then Jemma would be okay. She had to be.

Jemma's eyes opened a little more, focusing on Fitz. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, and there was a tiny drop of blood in the corner of her mouth. Tears threatened to spring up, but Fitz forced them back. He didn't want Jemma to see him crying, not like this.

"Yo-you're 'kay?" Jemma said, before coughing. The drop of blood at her mouth trickled down to the floor, leaving a tiny stream of red on her face. Fitz couldn't believe it. Surely she knew how badly injured she was. Yet she was worried about him?

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. So is Skye. Don't worry about us, worry about you." He said, his breath hitching when he said 'you'. Jemma just looked at him, her face completely serene, eyes turning glassy. She coughed again, more violently than the last time.

"No no no, Jemma, it's ok. We're going to get a team, and then you'll be fine. Just like after the Chitauri virus. You'll be fine." Fitz said, this time unable to stop the tears dripping down his face, running his fingers through her hair. Because this was just like the Chitauri virus. Only instead of jumping out of a plane, she had jumped towards a grenade. All to save the team. To save _him_. But here there was no parachute. No anti-serum. Jemma was about to die, again, and there wasn't a single damn thing he could do about it.

"You can't die..." He said, his voice broken. If Skye was anywhere nearby, she didn't say anything.

Jemma hadn't opened her eyes again. She was still breathing, but her breaths were coming in shorter, with longer amounts of time between each one. She couldn't die. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't live without her. Sobs escaped his throat.

"You can't die Jemma..." He said. _I love you._ He wanted to say. Before he lost the chance. But the words died before they left his throat. He should have told her sooner. Should stopped her from jumping at the man with the grenade. Should have moved faster. Should have done this, or that.

Should have, could have, didn't. And now Jemma was dying for it.

"Fitz-I" This time it was Skye speaking, one hand on his shoulder and the other covering her mouth. She was crying too, tears running her cheeks in rivers. Fitz didn't look at her, too busy watching Jemma. Watching each breath, each flicker of movement. It had been too long since the last breath.

She couldn't die.

But she had.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had an orthodontics appointment and wrote the pain away. I have no regrets. I remember watching T.R.A.C.K.S. And thinking: Dang they were lucky that wasn't an actual grenade. 
> 
> So then I decided: What if it was?


End file.
